Page 88 of The Earl’s Marriage of Convenience

And then she stopped; she didn’t continue or elaborate. It was enough.

He noticed it at once. With others, she would have elaborated—extended the moment, guided the conversation, shaped it toward her advantage. But with him, she did not.

Before he could question it, she continued. “I feel as though I ought to say more,” she admitted with a small, almost shy smile. “But the truth is, I am well … and quite ready to dance.”

Relief—unexpected and immediate—settled through him. “Then I shall take that as encouragement,” he said, smiling, “and ask you to join me.”

She inclined her head, finished her champagne, and set the glass aside.

He did the same. The quadrille began, and as they moved through the figures, Edwin became aware—keenly aware—of her in ways that had little to do with strategy. The lightness of her step. The way her laughter escaped her during a particularly quick turn. The soft flush that rose to her cheeks. She was stunningly beautiful.

When the set ended, he escorted her back—only to feel Hawthorne’s gaze draw his attention toward the far corner of the room. Edwin followed it and stilled. Lord Carver stood there.

Watching.

“He has not abandoned whatever plan he had,” Hawthorne murmured quietly. “He is waiting for an opportunity to reshape it.”

Eliza’s grip tightened on Edwin’s arm. He glanced down at her and she looked up, questioning. He gave her a reassuring smile—then, deliberately, allowed his gaze to shift toward Carver. She followed it. He felt the moment she saw him.

A quiet intake of breath.

He turned back to her, waiting until her eyes met his again.

“Do not concern yourself overly,” he said quietly. “We will need to address him—but not here.”

“I wish to be part of that plan,” she said, her voice low, steady—not pleading, but certain.

“You will be,” he replied at once.

She paused, seeming to consider her words, then began, “Would a confrontation force him to retreat?”

Edwin shook his head. “No. And worse—it would invite scrutiny. We cannot afford that.”

She nodded slowly. “I see.” A rueful smile tipped her lips. “I suppose part of me wishes to provoke him.”

He could not help but smile. “That does not surprise me in the least.”

Her expression softened—then faded slightly. “He brings out the worst in me,” she said quietly.

“Horrible men often do,” Edwin replied. “We will find a way forward.”

She nodded once. “I know we will.”

Edwin turned to Hawthorne. “We should send word to my mother. She must be informed—and included. There is, after all, a wedding to arrange.”

“She will not approve of everything,” Pere added lightly. “But she has wished to see you married for a very long time.”

“Still holding my neglect of your debut against me?” Edwin asked dryly.

“Entirely,” Pere replied with a smile.

The conversation shifted, lightened, and soon enough Edwin turned back to Eliza. “You owe me two dances yet,” he said quietly. “The dinner waltz—and the final.”

“As if we require further announcement,” she teased.

“One can never be too certain.”

“I believe Lady Molly is quite certain,” Eliza murmured, inclining her head behind him.